


Why Are You My Remedy?

by sambyosis



Series: Remedy AU [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Combeferre is not good with social interaction, Fluff, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, That's a lot of AU, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sambyosis/pseuds/sambyosis
Summary: Bahorel, a law student suffering burnout, stumbles into Remedy and meets the ever so cryptic Combeferre. He's intrigued, but how is he supposed to find him again if the shop he works at isn't even on the map?





	Why Are You My Remedy?

**Author's Note:**

> SO  
> I'm in a Les Mis rp group. My friend and I RP Bahorel and Combeferre and there was a brief stint where they were in a poly relationship (with Courferre already being established prior to that), and honestly, Ferrehorel consumed me from then on. I've been itching to write it and I love it a lot.

Remedy was a little hole-in-the-wall shop that wasn’t on any sort of map. It was a peculiar place and could only be found when a person truly needed it.  It was healing for the mind, body, and soul and was run by three witches.

 

First was the herbal witch Jehan who was there for healing of the body. They made healing teas and wards and pouches. They were honest and seemed to face everything in their life with a clear mind and a fearless heart. They were also the person to come up with the idea for Remedy. 

 

Next was the kitchen witch known as Grantaire. He was in charge of healing of the soul. He was a boisterous and surly fellow who said much but revealed so little. He could somehow know exactly what a person needed just by looking at them. 

 

Finally, there was the book witch Combeferre. He healed the mind. If there was a book that was needed, Combeferre would have it. He was a quiet man who was visited in the shop much less often than his counterparts, but the work he did was equally as important.

 

That day, though, did seem to be a day for Combeferre. A large, burly man fell through the door of Remedy, right to Combeferre’s feet. He gave the man a gentle smile.

 

“Welcome to Remedy,” he said. He offered his hand. “I am Combeferre. How may I help you?”

 

The man took it and Combeferre pulled him up. “Thanks… I’m Bahorel. Uh, Luc Bahorel, and I don’t really know.”

 

Combeferre gave him an appraising look. It wasn’t often that he got customers. This was the first person to come into his door in a long while. He was… quite handsome, actually. Bahorel was about a head taller than him as well. He also had enough muscle that he could probably snap Combeferre in half. He shook his head to get rid of that train of thought. He had a job to do. 

 

“What ails you, M. Bahorel?” he asked. “You must be here for a reason.” Of course he was. There was always a reason. 

 

“Is it that obvious?” Bahorel chuckled. He was clearly exhausted and he seemed to have a slump to his shoulders that most likely was not normal for him. 

 

“Just a bit,” Combeferre said, brushing past him to go to a table. “Take a seat. We can talk if you would  like.” 

 

Bahorel gave Combeferre a funny look but sat down across from him. He looked at his surroundings. The room was covered wall to wall with shelves. There were comfortable-looking chairs around the fireplace on the far wall. There was a desk not far from them with a high backed chair behind it. A cat was laying on the desk, sleeping soundly. There were three doors. One was obviously the way he had come in, but the other two he had no clue of. 

 

“Where am I?” he asked. His voice was soft like he was afraid to disturb the ambiance of the room. 

 

“You are at Remedy. It’s a shop of sorts,” Combeferre replied. “I run it with my friends: Jehan and Grantaire.”

 

“It’s a shop? It looks more like someone’s home,” Bahorel said, his eyes still scanning the room. 

 

Combeferre smiled a soft smile. “Home is where the heart is, and I suppose mine lays with these.” He gestured to the shelves. “Now, what is the matter? You look melancholy.”

 

Bahorel shrugged. “Burnout, I guess. I’m studying law, and as much as I want to do things that come with it, I just can’t seem to find the drive. I care so much, but my brain just… doesn’t want to do it.” He looked at Combeferre. The man looked skinny under his thick sweater. He had brown hair that had just enough curl to where it wouldn’t be frizzy. He had clubmaster glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. He was handsome in a nerdy sort of way.

 

“I see,” Combeferre said. He thought for a moment before pushing his chair back and going over to a shelf. He tutted a little as he looked at the books. He held a hand out and Bahorel could have sworn he saw a book fly into Combeferre’s hand. Combeferre furrowed a brow as he read the book but then nodded. He brought it back to the table and set it in front of Bahorel, a small grin on his face. “Here.”

 

“You’re giving me a book?” Bahorel asked, looking skeptically between it and Combeferre. 

 

“The mind’s greatest treasure,” Combeferre grinned.

 

“I tell you I’m suffering from burnout and don’t want to do any work, and you… give me a book?”

 

Combeferre shrugged. “It will help, but if you  _ really  _ don’t want it--”

 

Bahorel took the book and held it close, his eyes narrowed. “No way. I’m keeping this.”

 

“Are you?” Combeferre chuckled. “You forget that this is a shop. You’ll have to give me something in return.”

 

“Ah, shit,” Bahorel grumbled. “I really don’t have any money.”

 

“That book you hold in your hands is worth far more than monetary value, my friend.”

 

“Then what do I need to give you for it?”

 

Combeferre thought for a moment. He tapped his chin and then his eyes glinted as he obviously got something. “A memory.”

 

“A memory? You’re kidding.”

 

“A story in exchange for another,” Combeferre said. He smiled at Bahorel. “It is only fair.”

 

“And do I just tell you?”

 

He shook his head. “No. Just think of it in your mind. It can be happy or sad or any memory you can think of.”

 

Bahorel’s eyes narrowed again, but he simply shut his eyes and thought long and hard. Eventually, a memory sat clear in his mind. It was the day he met his best friend Feuilly. It was when they were first graders. Bahorel had a knocked out a tooth on the playground and was crying because he couldn’t find it. Feuilly had helped him to scour the entire playground. They never found it, but he was reassured that the tooth fairy would still find him. 

 

Combeferre pressed a finger to Bahorel’s forehead and felt the memory trace up his arm, warmth following where it went. He smiled a little. “Very sweet,” he whispered. A new book appeared on the shelf. He hoped that Bahorel didn’t notice. 

 

Bahorel’s eyes opened and he looked at Combeferre. “Well? What did you do?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” he said. 

 

“You’re fucking weird, you know that?”

 

The witch laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I have been told that quite often.”

 

Bahorel sighed and stood up. “So that’s it?”

 

“That is it.”

 

“No catch? No selling my soul to the Dark Lord or some shit?”

 

“None of that.”

 

“So this book is just mine now?”

 

“For as long as you need it.”

 

Bahorel gave Combeferre a funny look.  “Fucking weird...”

 

Combeferre laughed again and rolled his eyes. “I am sure my friends would ask you for something stranger.”

 

“Like what?” Bahorel asked. 

 

“Hair. Baby teeth. A week of your life,” Ferre joked. 

 

Bahorel made a face. “I’ll stick with you, thanks. That’s so creepy.”

 

The witch grinned. “Maybe just a little. Now, are there any more questions?”

 

“Loads, but am I going to get vague answers?”

 

“Maybe.” 

 

“Then there’s no point in asking.”

 

“Hm.” Combeferre gave him a funny look and then turned to head to his desk. “It never hurts to ask questions. It’s the beginning of gaining knowledge. ‘Why’ is always a good one. It’s the questions of scientists and storytellers.  _ Why  _ is someone doing something?  _ Why  _ is the sky blue?  _ Why  _ do we exist? There are infinite answers. It’s truly remarkable how the answer can differ from person to person.”

 

Bahorel just stared at his back. “You’re so weird.”

 

Combeferre smiled to himself. “Well, you won’t have to put up with me much longer.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

Ferre snapped his fingers and the whole of Bahorel’s vision went black

 

-

 

Bahorel awoke in his bed with a start. He furrowed his brows and looked around his room. He must have been dreaming. 

 

“That’s it. No more of Feuilly’s weird teas before bed.”

 

He reached over to his bedside table for his phone and his hand found a book. He looked at it and his eyes widened. It was the book from his dream.

 

“What the fuck?”


End file.
